Addiction
by ObsidianJade
Summary: The Dark Magician has to have one addiction. DMCG, yaoi, oneshot. Warnings: Heavy angst, drug use, attempted suicide.


A/N: **ATTENTION TO ALL READERS**: This story contains **DRUG USE, HEAVY ANGST**, and **ATTEMPTED SUICIDE**. If you don't want to read it, turn around. This is not my usual fluffy romantic humor. It is largely Onyx's work. We wrote this when I was extremely depressed. I am not willing to be flamed if you don't like what you read. Consider yourself warned.

A/N 2: The name I use for the Celtic Guardian is an Old Irish name meaning 'intelligent' or 'skillful.'

Disclaimer: … despite my best efforts, I still do not own Yu-Gi-Oh.

ADDICTION

He did not flinch as the needle pierced him again, marring what had been the porcelain perfection of his skin. The drug flowed through him, washing away the pain in a wave of drifting euphoria.

His cerulean eyes slid closed as he pulled the needle from his arm, relishing in the loss of reality. The drifting pleasure swept away all pain, including his agonizing memories. He could not recall, now, what cruel words he had uttered; only the look of pain in his lover's eyes. He remembered the agony in those amber depths, and he knew he would sooner die a thousand deaths than see it there again.

It would have been better if the Elf had raged at him, struck him, done _something_. Instead, he had simply turned and left the room they shared. He did not even slam the door on his way out, but closed it quietly as he always did, just firmly enough to latch.

Mahado had waited a few hours, until he was calm again, before going out to look for him. He had searched the entire Deck, but found no trace of him until he returned to the Mansion. Stopping in the stairwell, he overheard voices on the landing above him.

"…he say were he was going?" Gaia's voice asked, heavy with concern. The voice that answered him was light and feminine: Mana's.

"No, he only said that he and Mahado had a disagreement and he needed to leave."

The news was all over the Deck by the next day. The Celtic Guardian was gone. Simply gone. He had left the deck without notice, saying nothing of his destination or whether he planned to return.

That had been two months ago.

In that time, the Dark Magician had barely slept and eaten next to nothing. Not even the pleas of his sister Mana could shake him.

"You must eat, you're losing so much of your strength!" she'd begged, tears swimming in her eyes, but Mahado had still refused. He drank only water, eating perhaps every third day, and driving a morphine-loaded needle through his skin every time the memories loomed again. The insides of his arms were marked from wrist to shoulder with punctures, some of which still bled, his body too weak to heal them.

Staring at the syringe in his pale hand, he wondered at it. There was no true life for him without his lover. Duel monsters were forbidden to kill themselves by their Code, and therefore suicide was impossible. Even a monster, however, could be rendered unconscious indefinitely. It was not death, but it was close enough to suit his wishes.

Without a second thought, he filled the syringe again and drove the needle home.

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The first thing he became aware of was the light stabbing painfully into his eyes. He tried to raise a hand to shield them, but found his arms too weak.

"You're awake."

Braving the stabbing light, he opened one eye to find the source of the voice. There was a dark shape by the window, silhouetted by the burning brightness. Mahado narrowed his eyes in an attempt to see, and the figure moved to draw the curtains. With the light dimmed, Mahado's eyes relaxed enough for him to see the identity of his visitor.

Gaeth!

His lover had returned to him! "Gaeth?" he ventured, and the Elf spun to face him with unchecked fury.

"How stupid are you, Mahado?" The question came out in a hard, bestial snarl, and Mahado would have recoiled if he possessed the strength.

"Did you honestly think I wouldn't return to you? Was that it? Did you believe that because you lost your temper once, you would lose me forever!"

Mahado stared, open-mouthed, unable to summon a reply. When the Elf spoke again, his words sent a bolt of ice through the magician's heart.

"If I did not think it would kill you, I would leave you again for that lack of faith. For good, this time."

Seeing the horror on Mahado's face, the Elf gave a bitter laugh, one devoid of any mirth and used only as a substitute for tears. "Don't you trust me, Mahado?"

The magician opened his mouth to reply, then closed it again, not knowing how to answer.

"If you trusted me, you would have known I would return, and you would not have tried to destroy yourself."

"Gaeth, I - "

"You're a Ra-damned fool and you know it. If I ever see so much as a trace of morphine in your possession again, I will walk away and I will never look back. Do you understand?"

Mute, Mahado nodded. He had never known his lover to have a temper such as the one he now displayed. They had suffered their lover's spats in the past – what couple hadn't? – but never a true, furious battle.

"I never meant to fall to the morphine, Gaeth."

"I trust you will explain how the needle drove itself into your arm fifty-seven times without your assistance, then?" The words were icy, but he could see the Elf's anger dissipating.

"You had left the Deck without telling anyone where you were going, and without announcing your intentions to return. I thought… I thought that whatever I said had hurt you so deeply that I had driven you away forever. I hated myself for it. I shattered a mirror - " the mage held up his right hand, showing the thin pattern of scars that ran over it, "and they gave me morphine when they removed the shards. It was the first time I'd felt any peace since you'd left. I used a spell to create more. At first I took it only once a week, or every few days, but as time went on I needed it more and more." Shrugging helplessly, the mage glanced up at him, painfully aware of how his pale, skeletal form must look, contrasting with his lover's golden beauty.

As if reading his mind, the Elf turned and retrieved a wooden tray from the table beneath the window. On it was a bowl of weak broth and a few slices of good bread.

"Eat," the Elf ordered wearily, as he placed the tray on the bedside table and helped the mage sit up. "You look like death warmed over." But this time, Gaeth smiled, and his amber eyes were warm again.

Mahado smiled back at him and began to eat.

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Four months later, the mage sat awake in bed, gazing fondly down at the golden form beside him. The Elf was asleep on his stomach, and his back rose and fell slightly with his steady breaths.

Mahado had recovered swiftly from his ordeal, regaining his weight and strength almost as quickly as he had lost them. Now, his muscles were again lean and strong beneath his porcelain skin, and the marks on his arms had all but vanished.

Now, he bent down to press a kiss to his lover's back, tasting salt from the sweat they had both expended earlier, mixed with the sweetness of Elven skin. Gaeth was the only addiction he needed now.

Curling one arm around his lover's waist, Mahado drifted off to sleep, finally content.


End file.
